


Yes He Yields

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Sexual Tension, duels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8682298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Burr watches as Lee gets shot for running his mouth about Washington. He stays at his side in the medical tent and picks up the pieces.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [art-trash-exe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=art-trash-exe).



> uhm this ship makes a lot of sense historically also charles lee is my son
> 
> Inspired by art-trash-exe's art on tumblr: http://the-great-gay-jatsby.tumblr.com/post/153753243437/art-trash-exe-never-try-that-shit-again

The gunshot rang out louder than Aaron’s presumed volume of the crack in the Liberty Bell. Lee’s shout of pain was harsh, and he watched, horror spreading across his face, as the General crumpled to the ground. Everything seemed to slow, Aaron’s eyes fixed on Charles’ face; the man’s brow furrowed, his face twisted in pain. The red of his blood seeping out from between the fingers that had come down over his wound.

Then Hamilton was crowding past Laurens and yelling at the incapacitated man. “Lee, do you yield?”

Burr shoved Laurens aside as he hurried to kneel beside Charles, covering his hand with his own. “You shot him in the side, _yes_ he yields!” He snapped, voice high-strung with emotion.

His mind whirled, panicked, and he blocked out the rest of whatever Hamilton and Laurens were blathering. The next thing he knew, General Washington was barking for him to get a medic and he was fleeing the site of the duel.

Burr felt as though his heart might beat out of his chest with worry. This was exactly why he tried not to involve himself in such matters. He stayed by Charles’ side as the doctor ordered him onto a stretcher. He felt some sense of satisfaction when Washington stormed past them, Hamilton towed along in his wake. Then, all his attention was on the man he’d seconded for.

When they reached the medical tent, he was stopped and told to wait outside. He did. He always waited. Aaron suffered through listening to Charles’ howls of pain, voice broken and high with delirium as they fished the bullet out from his side. The sun, which had just been peaking over the horizon when the duel had finished, was high in the midday sky when a medic exited the tent.

The man was wiping gore off of his hands with an old rag, and Burr nearly tripped over himself to get on his feet. “Hes—?“

“Alive? Yes. He’s resting. You may see him.” The medic inclined his head, and Burr brushed past him into the tent.

Charles was laid out on the cot inside, his shirt and jacket torn off. A swaddle of bandages encapsulated his waist, and a diluted red had already seeped through the top layer. The tent was thick with the scent of blood. Bile rose in Burr’s throat, both at the sight, and the smell. He swallowed thickly and pulled the little chair up closer to the cot.

He appraised Charles as he sat. The General’s sweaty hair was plastered across his forehead, his chest rising and falling slowly but steadily. The corners of his lips had been rubbed raw from biting into a strap of leather as they plucked the bullet from within him. It lay, rinsed off with water, on a tray on the table. Burr turned his gaze back to Lee.

Gently, he stroked the feathery wisps of hair out of Lee’s face, tucking them behind his ear. Lee’s face twitched a little, and Aaron drew back, not willing to wake the other even if it meant they could speak. He had several choice words for Charles, when he awoke.

Stamping down the anger and anxiety welling within him, he bent to tuck his face against the cot, breathing out lowly. It didn’t take long for the exhaustion and worry of the day to catch up with him, and he drifted into a fitful sleep, slumped over, one hand touching Charles’.

Aaron awoke to a gentle touch along his cheek. He blinked and shifted, then sat up, groaning as his back popped. Charles smiled at him weakly, eyes half-lidded, his hand extended towards Aaron. Burr blinked again, then took Lee’s hand, smiling back. The General seemed, for the most part, stable, and on the way to good health again. The relief Aaron felt was immense.

Charles had been a fool, asking for such a high rank. He’d been an absolute coward at Monmouth, and, from what Burr could hear whispered around camp, essentially, a greedy traitor. He’d gone against his better intuition when he joined the party who’d returned to the battlefield to collect Lee from where he’d been left to rot.

Upon returning to camp, Lee had turned sweet, sad eyes onto Burr, and he’d melted. They’d adjourned to Burr’s tent, and Lee had made his way into Aaron’s bed. He didn’t oft leave, going so far as to having his things moved. Burr tried to keep this arrangement on the low-down. He had always been a private man, and the last thing he wanted was Hamilton catching words of their involvement.

He knew Hamilton had the same sensibilities towards men as he did, at least, part of the time, and he wasn’t afraid of Hamilton ousting him for sodomy. He was rather afraid of Hamilton ousting him for housing a traitor. The court martial drawn up against Charles resulted in him being held guilty on all accounts, but given a relatively light sentence. He was suspended from the army for one year.

Suspended, he was able to run his mouth. It drove Burr up the wall, and he just knew Lee was going to get himself in trouble. And he had. Hamilton had heard, and made a huge deal out of it, and Laurens had stepped up to the duel, and now Lee was shot.

An inkling of anger rose in the back of Aaron’s mind, and he spoke on it. “You’re an absolute dumb shit, you know that, right?”

Lee barked a little laugh and promptly grimaced in pain, his hand withdrawing from Aaron’s general direction to instead clutch at his side. “It was worth it. Hamilton’s proved himself to be a short-tempered, arrogant, piece of shit.”

Burr watched with narrowed eyes as Lee hauled himself up into some semblance of a sitting position, then shifted from his chair to perch on the edge of the cot. He placed his hand on Charles’ cheek, embedding his fingers in his sloppy hair.

“You could have _died_ , you asshole.” Aaron didn’t realize tears were welling in his eyes until he blinked and one trickled down his cheek.

Lee’s face softened entirely, and he pulled Aaron to him in a soft kiss. Aaron basked in the warmth of Charles’ body so close to his, and he swallowed tightly when Charles pulled away to speak again.

“I didn’t think the bastard would actually shoot me,” He murmured, referring to Laurens.

“He does whatever Hamilton asks. They’re insufferable.” Burr agreed, threading his fingers through Charles’ hair again and pulling him back into a kiss.

Charles hummed sweetly against his mouth, and Aaron felt heat stir in his belly. He extricated himself, cheeks hot. Lee raised a brow, managing to lounge even with a wound as great as the one he’d received. “We should—I should probably go.” Aaron said softly, turning his gaze aside.

Charles grunted a little. “Yeah, probably.” His accent was thick, something that Burr had always found attractive, but his voice was resigned.

Aaron sighed. He closed his eyes, counting to calm himself, than used his grip on Charles’ hair to pull him up further for a third kiss. Charles whined in the back of his throat, and the heat spiked in Burr’s stomach again. He gripped Lee’s hair harder, tugging, and Charles made another low noise.

The General shifted, struggling for a second, to spread his legs and drape one out over Burr’s lap. He hissed in pain at the strain from the movement, than lost himself again in the kiss. Aaron leant down over him, following Lee’s directions as he fisted his hands in the front of Aaron’s military jacket.

When they parted, it was only so Aaron could breathe for a moment, easily overwhelmed, as always. Lee distracted himself by nipping little marks down Aarons’ throat. Burr hummed, withdrawing further, and keeping his gaze on Lee’s face. Lee grinned lazily, one hand in Burr’s jacket lapels, the other against his side.

“Don’t fiddle with your bandages.” Aaron admonished, gently prying Charles’ hand away.

Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.” He drawled, and Aaron wanted to pin him down and fuck that insolent tone out of him.

Instead he settled for saying, “You’re in no shape to have any fun. Ask the medics when you’re supposed to be able to ride again.”

Charles bit his lower lip petulantly and made a face. “Aaron…”

“Don’t _Aaron_ me, Charles. You need to heal.” His voice was strong, but his resolve was decidedly not. Burr made to leave, knowing that it was better for them both if he left now, before they got into any trouble.

Charles grasped weakly at his jacket again, and he paused. The General drew him down into another kiss, this one long and slow and careful, then let him go. When Aaron pulled away, Lee’s eyes were closed, a smug little smile on his face. Aaron’s blood pressure rose. He leaned in and bit Lee’s lower lip, hard.

Charles yelped and shoved Aaron back, huffing out in pain and lapping the blood away. “Asshole. Get outta here.” He grumbled, eyes dark with arousal.

Burr smirked and turned on his heel. “Ask the medics.” He ordered, sweeping from the tent.

His spirits dampened slightly when he saw Hamilton sulking across the way, eyes fixed on Lee’s tent. The man spotted Burr emerge and began to approach, but Burr held his hand up. He walked to meet Hamilton half-way, and said, “Let him be. He’s resting. You almost got him killed.”

“No, he almost got him killed.” Hamilton corrected, sending one last glance towards Lee’s tent. He clearly wanted to go in there and pick another fight. “And he deserved it, shooting his mouth off about the General.”

Burr sighed softly and placed his hand on Alexander’s elbow, leading him away. “Don’t you have letters to be writing or something?”

“Washington’s sending me home.” Came the clipped response, and that piqued Burr’s interest.

“I see.” He answered, as they walked towards Hamilton’s horse.

“I’ll be back, though, don’t worry. I just need to take a break, he said. I get it, infighting wasn’t the solution.” Hamilton spoke on, and Burr’s thoughts turned to Lee.

With Hamilton gone, he wouldn’t have to be anywhere as near as careful with their transgressions. He bit back a pleased smile and tried to look placating. “We look forward to your return,” He offered, and Alex nodded as he mounted his steed.

Burr watched the man go galloping off towards home, one hand raised to thumb at his chin thoughtfully. Perhaps he might go pay Lee another visit. He could have him moved into Burr’s tent entirely. He probably needed to be watched as he recuperated. Aaron grinned to himself, and turned, heading off towards the medical tent for permission.


End file.
